


What is Love?

by PavellanLove



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Angst, Blow Jobs, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Male Slash, Smut
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-08-06
Updated: 2017-08-07
Packaged: 2018-12-12 02:13:28
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,263
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11727375
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PavellanLove/pseuds/PavellanLove
Summary: Thran Lavellen has never known love, but neither has Dorian. Now, together, they navigate that unknown territory together.Chapter 1: Set after the events of the main game, but before Tresspasser. This chapter sees a prideful Lavellen, judgment having been clouded by anger, captured by a group of left-over Venetori. Thran Lavellen is being tortured, before his love and friends rescue him.





	1. Don't Let Go

**Author's Note:**

> Bare with me on this, it's a major work in progress. Constructive feedback welcome.

_Crack!_

Stinging, stinging, pain. 

"Again!"

_Crack!_

Tied hands loosing grip on the stake they are tied to, he bit his lip. He refused to give them the satisfaction. He refused to cry out in pain, even as he could taste the iron of his own blood in his mouth, feel the crimson liquid begin to trickle down the sharp curves of his his back, eyes red and puffy, before being clenched shut again as-

_Crack!_

He faltered, legs giving out from underneath himself, now hanging from the ropes chaffing and digging into his wrists.

How long had he been there? Hours, days, it all seemed to bleed together. He looked up at his hands, left hand glowing with the green magic from the fade, dulled by something force fed to him. He was no mage, he didn't know what it was. 

_Crack!_

He writhed again, feeling the bite of the whip against his flesh.

So stupid, going off on his own, away from camp, an angry huff. What about? He couldn't remember now, all he remembered was-

_Crack!_

The Venetori mages had caught him, unaware, off guard. He had been too focused on his anger to really pay attention to his surroundings. He knew better, even from before he had walked in the fade, before he got this mark on his hand _,_ before he had become  _Inquisitor Lavellen._

_Crack!_

They had taken his bow, his arrows, all of his wonderful traps. How he wished he could light them all up with the glorious light show from his elemental mines, watch them burn, freeze, and spark with electricity. 

_Crack!_

His back arched again. He couldn't understand what they said in the tongue from their home land, for his Tevinter lover used very few phrases in it. Thran knew, though, that they were trying to break him, break his spirit, get information. They were going to be glorified, bringing a broken mess of the Herald of Andraste before whoever they considered their superiors now that Corypheus was dead. 

_Crack!_

He hissed, back arching again. He was far too proud for this, far too proud to give them the satisfaction of hearing his scream, no matter how much blood he could taste in his own mouth from biting his full bottom lip. 

He heard someone gruffly shout something in the language he didn't know, and then he braced himself for another strike that didn't come. Thran hung there from his wrists, huffing air deeply, his torture had stopped, for the time being. He wasn't sure why. He closed his eyes, leaned his head against the wooden stake, and wondered. By now, everyone knew that he had been taken, and his heart ached when he thought about it. No doubt, Dorian would be in a frenzy. Thran hoped the others could keep him from setting fire to the entire forest in search.

Then, he heard it, the call of a war horn somewhere in the distance. Clanking of metal against metal, then the all too familiar whiz of arrows flying through the air. He could then feel the heat from the flames that seemed to devour the camp of Venetori. It was then that he knew, the others had found him!  _Dorian_ had found him! 

Thran grunted, gripping at the rope that was around his wrists as he attempted to pull himself up in order to gain his footing again. The wounds on his back screamed in absolute protest, and he grunted as he fought through the pain, shakily standing on his own two dirty feet. He tried to get a look at his surroundings for the first time since he had been there. He saw the chaos as the flames licked at the tents around him, smoke rising. He coughed. One of his friends would find him soon, they just had to.

_"Amatus!"_

He heard the voice of his lover, cloudy, farther away than it should have been, then he was falling, falling into darkness.

\----------------------------------------------

They had finally found the camp of Venetori. The scouts had not been completely aware if it was the correct group of Venetori, there in the Wastes, who had kidnapped the Inquisitor, but the others had taken this as a step in the right direction. Dorian had been on edge the entire time, as the group made their way to the camp, and had almost set fire to an unsuspecting halla as the group rode towards the camp. 

He stood in the tree line as everyone else got into position to attack his countrymen, ready to set fire to everything, hate and worry etched on his perfect face. He was startled as he felt a large hand rest on his shoulders. 

"Woa, easy Dorian, easy." a deep voice said, and Dorian looked over his shoulder at the Iron Bull, "He'll be alright. The Boss is....the Boss is strong." Bull tried to comfort him. 

Strong, not a word many would associate with Thran Lavellan, at least those that didn't know him as well, but with all he had went through, the elf was indeed strong, even if he was stupid for going off on his own .

 _"Stinging, bleeding. Too prideful to let them hear him scream. Confusion, fear. They will come for me....he will come for me."_ Cole rambled off as the boy stood near the two.

"Cole, I don't think you're helping." Bull said to the spirit, glancing back at Dorian for a moment. The altus said nothing to either of them, and soon Bull felt the familiar feeling of a barrier being cast upon himself, then saw the signal from the others, then the call of a war horn. 

Dorian watched as Bull charged into the camp, and Cole disappeared, only to appear long enough to tear a few unsuspecting mages to shreds with his blades. Dorian stayed at range, as much as he wished he could charge in there, find his amatus, and get him out of harm's way. He did what he did best, casting flaming array in front of himself. If this had been any other raid, Thran would be alongside him, readying his elemental mines before disappearing and reappearing in a group of enemies, only to drop the mines and leap out of the way.

He flung fire form his hands and his staff, immolating as many enemies as he could, casting fire walls around the camp, and raising the dead to work for him. Worry was still etched on his face as he re-casted his barrier spell on Iron Bull and Cole, as well as a few others. These Venetori, they must have been remnants of those who worked for Corypheus, ones who didn't give up after their master was destroyed.

He then heard the call, all enemies were dead, the fight was over. 

"Dorian!" Sera called, and motioned for him. 

They had found him, they had found his amatus! Dorian took off in a full on run towards Sera, who in turn took off in a run in the direction where Thran was tied to a pole, flesh ripped from his back, blood dripping, yet Thran forced himself to stand. He never did like to look weak in front of the others, despite having no doubt been through hell. 

"Amatus!" Dorian gasped, worry etched in his voice at seeing the condition of his lover, but Thran then collapsed before Dorian reached him. Dorian fell to his knees next to the elf as Sera pulled a Dagger from her belt and cut the bindings that held the Inquisitor to the stake. Dorian caught the unconscious elf before his upper half hit the ground, cradling his head in his lap, angled where no pressure was put upon his back. The mage gingerly ran a hand through Thran's dark brown hair, moving the strands away from his chiseled face. 

\---------------------------------------

His brow furrowed, and emerald eyes opened. The first thing he noticed, he was on a cot, and laying on his stomach. His back was numb, it was still dark, or maybe dark again. He grunted, attempting to push himself up.

"Nuh, uh, uh, Amatus." 

Thran felt a warmth in him, just hearing that suave, velvety voice again, even if Dorian was about to reprimand him for trying to get up.

"You need to stay on your front, lest you open those wounds on your back up again." Dorian said. 

Thran could hear the inflection in his voice, it was soft, but still a bit worried about him, and that was what Thran loved about that man. He licked his lips, then felt as a water skin was put to them, and he took a long drink. That felt better, not as scratchy. 

"I'm  _sorry._ " Thran said, voice barely able to be above a whisper, green eyes half-lidded as they stayed glued to Dorian's handsome face while the mage twirled his mustache, looking down at Thran with a sigh. 

"All is forgiven, Amatus." Dorian said softly, and Thran felt a hand on his behind, over the sheet that covered his body, rubbing it lovingly, tenderly. Then Dorian's hand moved, taking Thran's, giving it a gentle squeeze.

He could feel himself slipping back into the darkness of unconsciousness, mumbling, "Please.....Don't let go."


	2. Be Gentle

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Thran's injuries have been healing up nicely, and they all make it back to Skyhold.

_Crack!_  
  
Thran's brow knotted together in his sleep, the crack of the whip still echoed in his dream as he mumbled things incoherently, tears leaking from the corners of his eyes which were clenched shut in his sleep. His hands clenched up into fists, holding tightly to the blankets in their tent. Dorian sighed quietly. It had been the fifth time this week alone that Dorian had to coax Thran from his nightmare.   
  
He placed a hand along the elf's pale cheek, and leaned down, kissing a tapered ear before he spoke.  
  
"Amatus, wake up." Dorian's voice was gentle, yet stern. It had to be to waken Thran from his nightmare. He moved just away just in time.  
  
Thran shot up as his emerald eyes popped open, breathing heavily, heart beating out of his chest. It took him a moment to realize where he was, that he was safe. He felt Dorian move next to him, felt the man's hand on his thigh, tracing small circles gently on his skin. Thran grunted, his back protesting to the sudden jolt of movement, his brown hair in his face. The feeling of Dorian's hand on his thigh helped ground him as he breathed deeply, beginning to calm down.   
  
"Are you alright, Amatus?" Dorian asked, and Thran could hear the worry etched in the man's tone. While he absolutely hated that Dorian was worried, it made him feel loved and special.   
  
"I-I'm fine, Dorian." Thran said softly, and he laid down on his side. He and Dorian slept front to front, still keeping any pressure from Thran's wounds.  
  
Dorian's hand moved, tucking some brown hair behind Thran's ear, "Are you sure?" he asked, placing a tender kiss to the elf's forehead.   
  
Thran nodded slightly, leaning his forehead against Dorian's chest as the mage's hand moved to stroke his side gently. Thran breathed in his scent, a mixture of expensive soaps, oils, and perfumes with the underlying smell of ash from his use of fire magic. He listened to the steady beat of Dorian's heart, and it all grounded him, his heart slowing, as well as his breath, and the Inquisitor drifted off to sleep again.

* * *

 

The next morning, Thran woke as he felt a kiss on his ear, then to the spot just below it, then his jaw, and finally his lips. He returned the kiss, and whimpered when Dorian pulled away, emerald eyes opening and looking at Dorian with a pout.   
  
Dorian tsked at Thran, "Now, Amatus, don't pout. We leave for Skyhold today, and I must change your bandages before we go." Dorian said.   
  
Thran sighed, eyes following Dorian as he got up from where they lay in the tent, grabbing his healing supplies. The mage wasn't much of a healer, his magic being used mostly for searing the enemies flesh and raising the dead to fight their former comrades. For Thran, though, he made an exception. Thran turned so that he lay on his stomach, and Dorian's hands gingerly removed the used dressings from his back, taking note of the gashes on his back, healing nicely. They were still red, but no infection had set in, meaning Dorian was doing his job well.   
  
Thran felt a calming healing spell cast over his body, and he relaxed against his pillow, only to hiss when Dorian applied the elfroot salve to the gashes. He applied fresh bandages, and moved again to put the things away, "There now. Your wounds are healing up well." he said, "Now I need to help you up and to get ready for travel." Dorian said, looking down at the elf.  
  
Thran's eyes narrowed. He hated this part. Ever since they had rescued him. Thran had far too much pride to admit his pain, he never wanted to seem weak. He didn't mind being vulnerable around his lover, but to the others he wanted to remain their strong leader. However, since his kidnapping, he was physically too broken. He hated it immensely, and often had a sour, grumpy mood because of it. He felt as Dorian helped him to a position where he was sitting up, and grunted again as his muscles and wounds protested. Dorian stayed there, arm loosely around him as his body adjusted.   
  
"Kaffas, Amatus, giving me the silent treatment because you have to go out in public using me as a crutch after such a traumatic experience? No one thinks you weak. No need to be so grumpy." Dorian said.  
  
"Admit it, you're enjoying this." Thran said, still glaring at Dorian.  
  
"I take no pleasure in seeing you in so much pain, Amatus." Dorian said gently, kissing the side of his head, "however, I do enjoy seeing you act so grumpy and frustrated... it's rather cute."   
  
Thran rolled his eyes at his lover, and looked away. "Come on now, Thran, up we go." Dorian said, standing and helping to pull Thran to his feet.  
  
He gave the elf all the support he needed as Thran adjusted to the pain in his back, and his stiff muscles, "This particular moment is not unlike the morning after our first night together, amatus." Dorian said in his ear.   
  
Despite the fact that they were alone, Thran's porcelain cheeks heated up, changing to a red color under his vallaslin, which instigated a chuckle from Dorian.   
  
"You play dirty, Dorian." Thran said softly, glaring at the floor, head to the side.  
  
Dorian took this as an opportunity to stand in front of his lover instead of alongside him, placing a hand on his shoulder, and another one along his cheek, forcing the elf to look at him, "I thought you _liked_ when I played dirty." he said a bit gruffly before kissing the elf deeply, a gasp coming from Thran as he kissed the man back, a groan of pleasure coming from him as Dorian's hand on his shoulder moved to his ass, groping it gently.   
  
" _Creators_..." Thran breathed when the kiss broke, his cheeks still pinked as he looked up at Dorian, holding himself against his lover.  
  
"Kaffas, amatus, if you weren’t so broken right now." Dorian said, placing a few heated kisses on Thran's pale throat, and Thran swallowed hard, hands resting on Dorian's hips.  
  
"Andraste's tits, Dorian! Down boy!" Dorian paused, looking to the side, and Thran turned his head to see Sera at the entrance to their tent. She chuckled, "Get too rough, and you'll hurt our Inky, don't want that do ya?" the peculiar elf asked with another chuckle.   
  
Dorian sighed, "Unless there was something important you came in here to tell the two of us, you can leave." the man said, clearly annoyed by their interruption, even if Sera was right.   
  
"No, just to let you both know that we are leavin' soon, so best get packed up." she said, and turned and left their tent, still giggling like a little school girl.   
  
Dorian and Thran shared one more deep kiss before Dorian helped Thran to dress and got dressed himself. He helped his lover out of the tent, and made sure he was alright leaning against his Wild Hart mount so Dorian could finish packing up their tent.   
  
"How ya doin' Boss?" Bull's deep voice asked as the large Qunari came out of his tent.   
  
"A lot stronger, Bull....thanks." Thran answered.   
  
" _Pride. Feeling weak. The pain is still there, ebbing away. Can't let them see_." Cole said, having seemingly come out of nowhere to stand near Thran. He looked at the elf, "It's alright, Inquisitor. We all feel weak sometimes, even The Iron Bull, here."   
  
Thran rolled his emerald eyes as Bull looked at Cole with a slightly confused expression. Thran hated it when Cole read him like that. Apparently, the mark made it harder, but apparently when his feelings and thoughts were loud enough, the spirit could understand them. Still, the kid was trying to help.   
  
"You may want to leave him alone, Cole." Dorian's voice came into the conversation as he came out of the tent, his pack as well as Thran's on his person, "Our dear Inquisitor is still in quite the grumpy mood this morning."   
  
Thran didn't even have to look at Dorian to know that he was smirking after that remark. He huffed angrily as Dorian, Sera, and Bull all stifled chuckles.  
  
"Ha, ha, you all have had your fun. Is it time to go now?" Thran asked.  
  
"Amatus, amatus, amatus." Dorian said, coming alongside the elf, hand caressing his cheek, "Do try to relax, it's not good for your wounds if you are tense." he said, kissing Thran's forehead tenderly. Thran let out a breath, and nodded gently, "Alright, now to get you up in your saddle."   
  
Dorian looked to Iron Bull for help with that. Thran may have been fairly small, but the Tevinter mage still couldn't lift the male on his own. The Qunari came over to the pair, "Brace yourself, boss." he warned, and lifted Thran up onto the Hart.   
  
The Inquisitor grunted and swayed, "I don't think-"  
  
He cut himself off as he felt Dorian mount the Hart behind him, holding him up, allowing the elf to lean against him so he didn't fall.   
  
"But Dorian....you _hate_ riding Cinna." Thran said, looking behind him at the man.   
  
Dorian sighed, "True, but we can't have you falling out of the saddle, and I know you are more comfortable on him." Dorian said.   
  
Thran smiled, head leaning against Dorian's shoulder. It was the little things like this that counted, " _Ar lath ma, vhenan_." Thran mumbled.

* * *

 

It took three grueling weeks for the group to finally arrive at the gates of Skyhold. It would have been shorter, but they took a much slower pace due to the Inquisitor's injuries, and counted themselves lucky they hadn't run into any bandits along the path   
  
Thran sighed in relief upon seeing the large hold, his home for two years. He was sitting up on his own, his gashes healed, but muscles still quite sore. He would kill for a bath. However, he knew his advisors would want to meet with him, though he knew that scouts had been sent here right after he had been rescued. Still, the Inquisitor's work was never done.  
  
Dorian was on his own mount, as he had been for the last week due to his and Cinna's mutual dislike of one another. Thran patted the neck of the Wild Hart as the elf hopped off the back of the beast, handing the reins to Dennet as the rest of the group handed their mounts off to stable hands. He looked around with a sigh, then felt an arm go around his waist gently, and a pair of lips nip at his tapered ear.  
  
"Are you alright, Amatus?" Dorian asked, carrying his staff along with them as they walked.  
  
Thran had gotten over the naked feeling of being without his bow and quiver, the one he had crafted, no doubt, had perished in the flames of that Venatori camp. He would request a new one crafted as soon as possible.  
  
"Just sore....and tired... I would kill for a warm bath." Thran mumbled as they walked up the stairs.  
  
Dorian breathed in, sniffing Thran's messy brown hair, "Yes, you could definitely use it." he said.  
  
Thran huffed, rolling his eyes and Dorian chuckled, "I believe a bath and rest can be arranged, after-"  
  
"Inquisitor! Thank goodness you are alive!" he heard his Antivan chief diplomat exclaim as they entered the grand hall of Skyhold. She ran up to him, to hug him, but Thran held her off.  
  
"Please, Josie....I'm still sore." Thran said. Josie gasped but nodded in understanding, "If you could have someone fetch Cullen and Charter for me, and meet me in the War Room."  
  
"Charter is away, Scout Harding is here, though." Josephine said.  
  
"That'll work as well." he said. Charter and Harding had been doing the work of Spymaster together since Leliana had went off on duties as Divine Victoria. She had yet to actually choose a successor from them, but they were quite the team.  
  
Josephine took a doorway out to find Cullen and sent a soldier for Scout Harding, as Dorian led Thran through Josie's office and down the corridor, through the large double doors of the War room.  
  
"If you don't need me for anything else, you know where-"  
  
"Stay." Thran cut Dorian off, the elf's arm tightened around him. He wasn't ready to be away from his lover yet, "Please." he added, nearly pleadingly.  
  
Dorian looked down at him, a smirk on his face, but admiration in his eyes, "of course, Amatus."   
  


* * *

The Advisors had given him an update on the Exalted Planes. After his companions had utterly destroyed the rogue camp of Venatori who had kidnapped him, the Inquisition had sent scouts to comb the rest of the area, making sure there were no more camps of left-over cult members. There was also word from a few diplomats who wished to meet with him in Skyhold, as so many still wished to meet the savior of Thedas. Josie assured Thran, however, she would send word to them to wait. Thran would get a week's rest and relaxation. 

The Advisors, and Dorian, had agreed it was the best for the Inquisitor after the trauma he had went through.   
  
Thran had no clue what he was going to do with a weeks’ worth of free time, after so long constantly working as head of the Inquisition, not that he wasn't thankful. Still, he was too prideful to really admit he appreciated the reprieve.   
  
The meeting only lasted about an hour, getting his final decisions on a few more things so that they wouldn't need to bother him for the week (unless a dire emergency came about).  
  
Harding started to mention something about Dorian, for whenever he decided to go back to Tevinter. Dorian cleared his throat before she had finished, and she got the picture that it was not the time.   
  
Thran knew that Dorian would be going back to Tevinter at some point, at least for a few weeks, but they hadn't actually discussed when or for how long. Thran didn't want to think about it.  
  
After the meeting, Dorian walked with the elf back to his quarters, where a bath waited for them.   
  
Dorian smirked, "It seemed your wish was granted." he said, feeling the water, "Or maybe not quite yet," he said, and lit fire at the coals beneath the tub, the rocks warming the tub of water, "Now, it is granted."   
  
Thran smiled at him. Dorian knew that Thran liked his baths hot, especially when relaxing after coming back from traveling. The mage came over to the elf, kissing him softly, helping him to remove his dragon scale coat and webbing shirt, then his breeches and smallclothes, fingers gingerly brushing along the inside of his thigh, teasingly.  
  
Thran shuddered, and his breath hitched as Dorian kissed his neck, "Come on, amatus, into the bath."  
  
After Dorian helped him into the hot water, Thran relaxed, leaning his head back. He couldn't help but turn his head after a moment, watching as Dorian unclasped the buckles of his armor, shedding it, then stripping down completely in the nude. Thran's eyes roamed Dorian's body, and when they returned to his face, the mage's signature smirk curled under his mustache as he walked towards the tub and climbed in, settling next to Thran and pulling the elf into his arms. Thran sighed contently, closing his eyes.  
  
After a few minutes of relaxing, Thran felt as Dorian kissed his ear, then his jaw, and his neck, enticing a groan from the elf. Dorian kissed his throat, then his lips deeply, hands starting to roam down the Inquisitor's body, one arm wrapping around his hips, pulling him closer, and into his lap, the other hand twerked Thran's nipple gently, and he moaned again, against Dorian's lips.   
  
He grinded his hips against Dorian, feeling the mage's length under him, and Dorian's hand dipped down, grasping Thran's own cock, gently stroking it. The elf's breath hitched again, and he moaned as Dorian's lips moved down to kiss his neck and collarbone again.  
  
"Dorian...." Thran breathed.  
  
"Hmmm?" Dorian hummed against his skin, barely pausing in his assault on the elf's neck.  
  
"Be gentle."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is quite a bit longer than the first, fitting quite a bit into one. It's a slow build to the smutty stuff, but Thran is still in pain most of this chapter, so bare that in mind. Also, I imagine Thran doesn't use elvhen very often, but to say I love you to Dorian, of course he does. Also, building up to the smutty smut, but there is a bit in this chapter.


End file.
